


He Will Come

by theacerbicprince



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22678834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theacerbicprince/pseuds/theacerbicprince
Summary: Bella has not long been released from Azkaban and struggles to come to terms with being a free woman and reclaiming herself. Narcissa finds her wandering around the Manor at night and tries to help her sister.This is a one-shot drabble exploration of Bella's madness and perception of the world around her.
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Voldemort
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	He Will Come

She couldn’t remember where she was. All she could see was darkness and all she could hear was her breath, coming in short gasps. It was cold, the chill seeping into her bones and her frame rattled with the it as the icy tendrils of fear crept their way through her blood to her heart. She jumped to her feet, turning on the spot, eyes wild and hair a tangled mess of her broken hopes and dreams, a scream resting on her tongue. She couldn’t see anything other than the abyss that was aching for her, a yawning mouth ready to swallow her whole. She would never see the golden-haired Angel again, never feel the warmth of her touch, the softness of her lips.

She cried out then, the scream leaping from her tongue and burying its way down her throat, a strangled cry, her hand flying to her throat as she tried to make sense of her position. She couldn’t _see._

_Why can’t I see? Where am I?_

The prison.

Was she in the prison?

Her hands slid down her sides to grip tightly to the fabric of her skirt. Skirt. She never wore a skirt in the prison. The fabric didn’t seem gauche, it was expensive. The cold grip around her heart loosened fractionally as a splinter of memory swam before her eyes. She was liberated, she had been freed from the prison. Azkaban.

Another rattle through her frame at the mere name. That had been her death. She had been buried in her grave for so many years, death peering at her through the bars, teeth stretched into a chilling grin that had promised they would meet one day soon. Nails became claws and she began to tear at her clothes, her skin, the darkness sticking to her like tar, a cloak of shadows that bound her tighter and tighter in its grip. It was going to crush her.

A flicker of light at the edge of her consciousness.

She froze, hands in her hair, nails digging into her scalp.

The light grew stronger, its warmth spreading as it came closer and closer, encroaching on the darkness that surrounded her, that tried to control and contain her, bind her for the rest of her existence.

She reached out for the light, whispering its name over and over again as though it were a prayer of salvation.

_Light, save me._

_Light, save me._

“Bella. Oh, Bella what are you doing?”

_Light, save me._

It was the Angel.

_Light, save me._

The light reached her, carried by the Angel who wrapped her arm around Bella who trembled, leaning into the touch, her hands reaching for the light.

_Light, save me._

Her fingers curled around the tip of the Angel’s wand; her face illuminated by light. The tension and fear in her expression relaxed, her countenance slipping into serenity. She was enamoured with the light. The light would protect her as would the Angel.

She looked up at the Angel, feeling tears welling in her eyes. The Angel with the light, they were everything and yet it was not just them. She could feel a fluttering within her mind, another shard pushed across the ocean of memory of a pale face with scarlet eyes and her heart began to sing. It was Him too. She could not forget Him.

“Where is he?” She asked the Angel, her voice unsteady, her hands shaking, the serenity quickly disappearing and replaced with panic.

“Bella, it’s late, come to bed.” She shook her head, pushing herself away from the Angel. She loved the Angel but she needed Him too. She needed him so deeply that she felt as though she would drown in the darkness without Him. Shaking fingers ghosted over her left forearm and she felt a shock of exhilaration when she felt the smoothness of the tattoo on her skin. It was His brand, His mark given only to those most deserving.

She cooed as she slowly sank to her knees, fingers caressing the tattoo with care and reverence as though it were the greatest miracle of life, as though it were her child. She brought her arm to her lips, a hair’s breadth away from kissing it, hoping that He would come. He could not abandon her; He could not leave her.

_He will come._

“Bella, please. Let’s go to bed. I will stay with you.”

_He will come._

“Bella, please.”

_He will come._

The Angel knelt beside her, delicate hand on her shoulder, entreating her to go with her. Bella wanted to go with the Angel but she needed Him and she knew He would come.

_He will come._

“Yes, he will but you have to come to bed. Let me be with you till he comes.” The Angel knew, her voice soft and reassuring. She looked up at the Angel and nodded, allowing the Angel to pull her to her feet and lead her through the darkness to a bedroom.

_He will come._

“Yes. He will.” The Angel replied as they settled in the bed, the Angel wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close. Her fingers began to trace the patterns of the brand that she could feel and see in the dark. It was less oppressive since the Angel had arrived.

_He will come._

She traced the patterns over and over again, her soul calling out for Him, even as the Angel gripped tightly to her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

She traced the patterns over and over again, her soul calling out for Him even as the Angel’s breathing changed as she slipped into sleep.

_He will come._

Sleep.

_He will come._

Sleep.

_He will come._

It was almost silence, the only sounds her own whispering and the breathing of the Angel. Then; a flutter, a breath against her cheek, a memory embracing her soul and His voice finally.

_Sleep Bella, I will come but first you must sleep._

_Do you promise?_

The ghost of a kiss and she sighed.

_I promise._


End file.
